It was hard to tell which one to keep your eyes on; perhaps you watched the man they called Vetinari's Terrier, or, perhaps, on the last inheritor of the ancient house of Ramkin, or, then again, the man who had, through sheer force of grit and spite, gone from a drunk, gutter-lying failure of a policeman to the head of what was widely considered the Disc's most reliable force, or, perhaps, on the woman who bred dragons on such merits as the heat they could produce, or for minimal rate of explosivity (the very qualification of which suggested a great many things about the woman who would work with such creatures) or, then again, perhaps the wise choice was to watch the one who had delayed a war long enough to stop it from starting in the first place by holding both generals (including the one from his own city) at the tip of a crossbow, or, then again, on the woman who had, with a stirring vocal performance, brought an entire hall of aggravated Dwarves to a sobbing standstill, or perhaps it would be wise to be careful with a man seemed to make easy sport of the trainee assassins (for fully trained assassins had long since marked him as a target not worth the trouble) who were sent out as homework to take their shot at him.

Truly, the Ramkin manor held enough eyes worth of 'keep your eye on this one' in its residents to keep even one of the more distasteful eldritch creatures that cults are so fond of quite busy.

All the more impressive considering there were only two of them.